Sunset
by Cupe
Summary: Sometimes he needs a little kick start. Light HughesMustang.


_**(Author's Note: First off, apologies for my deadness. My NaNo project just about killed me. I will start editing it soon, I promise, and one day post it in all its glory. I will try to tie up WTGAW, too. For now, my new pet fandom is...FMA. I dropped it a few years back then was convinced to watch Brotherhood (and still cried my eyes out over Hughes). So...Yeah. Enjoy. **_

_**Prompt: Sunset.  
**_

_**I have a prompt table over at my LJ (GoodbyeMagpie) if you want to have a look at what to expect in the future.)**_

**Sunset**

_Oh, but no one can stare at the walls as good as you, my baby doll,_

_And you're aces for coming along,_

_You're almost human even now..._

It had been late when Maes had found him curled up in the hollowed out remains of what had once been someone's home. Possessions still lay scattered about here and there, torn upholstery, crockery smashed to pieces when the family had fled or when the soldiers had charged in searching for survivors. There was even a dark stain in the corner that had begun to weave itself into the pattern of a thick rug before the sun had baked it to a fine crust. Roy had almost convinced himself it was just wine or something, disregarding the details of their religion that forbade the Ishbalans from drinking alcohol, when the unmistakable sound of boots over sand and stone had broken the mental slump he had sunken into. An excuse for his presence here was already on his lips when the familiar frame had slunk into view. Worried frown in place, Maes had quietly approached, disregarding the panic in Roy's eyes as he crouched before him, strong fingers brushed over the thin tan coat, resting heavily against the smaller male's nape,

"...Roy?" Maes's voice broke the heavy silence, cutting the hot, suffocating air with unspoken questions, "How long have you been here? The Colonel thinks you've been kidnapped or something." A faint sigh of exasperation left them both and they shared a soft smile at the thought of Colonel Jenson pacing frustratedly over the disappearance of the Flame Alchemist.

It was short lived, and soon the corners of Roy's mouth had turned downwards once more, his gaze dropping to the sandy floor between his legs once more,

"I just needed some space," his voice was quiet and Maes likely wouldn't have heard him if he hadn't been less than a metre away, "...It's too much." His eyes squeezed shut, the barely disguised discomfort bleeding through to undeniable agony that tugged at Maes's chest. His fingers tightened around his friend's shoulder and he tugged him into an embrace. The lack of protest from Roy at the act was jarring; Maes was sure it was down to utter apathy more than Roy having grown used to his disregard of personal space.

"I'm sorry, Roy." There was no comfort Maes could offer him more than feeble words and even those were a mere pittance. Nothing would bring back the people Roy had killed, that they had all murdered. 'Never forget the people you killed as they won't forget you' Hawkeye's voice rang in his ears and he sighed, his fingers brushing through Roy's short hair, the once soft strands dry and gritty from harsh dry air and sand. The man in his arms grunted softly, some of the tension easing out of his body at last as he relaxed against Maes's broad chest. The stead tha-thump of his friend's heart beat was reassuring, comforting, reminding him steadily that there was life amidst the maelstrom of death that had been asphyxiating him, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and cloaking him in the stench of seared flesh.

"There were children-" He winced as Roy choked off into a dry, rasping sob, feeling his body tremble with the weight of his guilt. He closed his eyes, gently rubbing his back through the material of his uniform and staring out of the cracked window pane at the darkening sky. They needed to return before Jenson sent more men after them and accusations of desertion rose. Looking back at Roy a faint smile tugged at his lips as he noted the way he had curled up against his would have been cute had he not looked so vulnerable, a sharp contrast to the confident, almost arrogant, alchemist Maes had befriended and fallen in love with.

"Come on, Roy-boy, we need to head back," he gently stirred Roy from his half doze, brushing his lips to his forehead. Roy tilted his head up to meet Maes's eyes and neither could resist a gentle, chaste kiss, taking comfort in the familiar taste of each other. The gloved fingers clutched at Maes's uniform, the white fabric dulled to grey, though the red arrays on the backs still shone in the waning light, the tone darkened enough to resemble blood. The thought sat uncomfortable in his stomach and he shook it from his head, bringing a smile to his features with the ease of practice, gently untangling those fingers and smoothly rising to his feet, bringing Roy with him,

"Get up and walk, Roy," Black eyes met his own, his lover's attractive visage marred by pain and exhaustion. Maes kissed him again, allowing his tongue to slide smoothly over Roy's, the movement ebbing and flowing like waves on a beach before he reluctantly ended it once more, "Move forward." He whispered against Roy's lips, watching as his expression hardened into the more familiar mask of control and indifference.

Maes smiled, lacing their fingers and leaving the shell of a home behind them as they scaled the dunes back to the military camp, letting their hands drift apart once the glows from the fires came into view. Roy's presence beside him was stronger now; all the fear and guilt carefully hidden from all but those who knew him intimately. The cracks were still there, undeniably, but Maes hoped this would be enough to hold Roy together until the war was over and they could try to fix themselves permanently.

He paused, drawn from his thoughts when Roy stopped, his gaze turned towards the far horizon. The setting sun bathed them in a sharp orange glow, as if they were stood before a roaring fire, the shades brought out the faint olive tones in Roy's skin, betraying his Xingian heritage and setting small fire aglow in his dark eyes. Maes smiled to himself as he beheld the beauty that had first stirred his interests in Roy Mustang. That smile only widened when those eyes met his own, wider with confusion and curiosity. Softly chuckling, he gently clapped the alchemist on the back and shook his head, looking out as the sun dipped below the sand dunes leaving only smears of brilliant red and orange across the sky as reminders of its descent. Their eyes met once more, a soft smile finally gracing Roy's lips and Maes couldn't help but return it,

"Move forward," he repeated, turning back towards the camp with him, delighting in the renewed life and confidence in his lover.

The sun had set on another day to rise once more the next.

For better or for worse, Maes knew they would do the same. They would die and be reborn over and over again until day finally dawned over a better tomorrow.


End file.
